


Intangible

by Crosier



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crosier/pseuds/Crosier
Summary: It feels like they're in two different worlds and with every second that passes, the distance between them grows.
Relationships: Fukase/OLIVER (Vocaloid)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Fukase meets Oliver, he is eight and Oliver seven.

The adults pretend to see nothing, and the students pretend they do nothing wrong.

Fukase does it too. He pretends he can't hear the way Oliver cries whenever someone shoves him against the wall, he pretends he can't see how Oliver stays to himself during recess, and he pretends he doesn't care if Oliver gets hurt.

It's always in the back of his mind.

Better him than me, right?

So, why does he feel guilty?

Why does he feel angry when he hears his classmates talk about him?

"He's not one of us."

"He's not from here."

"His voice is so different."

Each excuse makes no sense to Fukase. And with each excuse they think of, the worse they treat Oliver.

"He just doesn't blend in, and that's his fault," Arsloid tells him.

* * *

It's during recess that Fukase finds Oliver in the corner of a bathroom stall. His head in between his hands, his jaw clenched and his eyes brimming with tears.

Fukase can feel his chest tighten when Oliver looks up at him.

It feels like they're in two different worlds and with every second that passes, the distance between them grows.

It makes Fukase anxious. It makes him want to scream.

Oliver seems to fight against a sob as he wipes his eyes. "What do you want, Fukase?" 

Fukase wants to stop pretending, but he doesn't know how. 

Oliver only looks at him, a small frown on his lips. There's a bruise on his cheek, and all Fukase can think of to say is, "I won't tell anyone you're here."

Oliver's laugh sounds broken.

"It doesn't matter, they'll find me, anyway."

Fukase watches as Oliver begins to stand. There's another bruise on Oliver's collarbone and a bigger one on his arm. 

"Wait," Fukase whispers, relieved when Oliver listens, "I want to show you something."

Fukase swallows and steps closer to Oliver. 

Oliver is on his knees when Fukase closes the space between them. His eyes widen when Fukase pulls his shirt up. 

There's a trail of bruises that line from Fukase's stomach to his chest. A painting of blues and purples beaten on his pale skin, and Oliver is the first person Fukase has shown. 

They almost match the one's Oliver has on his arms and legs. 

"Why are you showing me this?"

Fukase pretends he can't hear the hurt in Olivers' voice. 

He pretends, he can't feel how cold Olivers' hands feel when he touches the skin above his bellybutton. He pretends, he can't feel the pain when Oliver presses on a recently new bruise. 

And even though Fukase is just pretending. 

Everything Oliver does feels _real. ___

____

And with every gentle touch Oliver gives, the distance between them lessens.

____


	2. Chapter Two

_(It's under the fluorescent lights that Fukase is able to see just how different Oliver really is._

_Where one eye is the lightest shade of brown, it could almost be considered gold; the right eye is a darker wine, red._

_It's not normal, and it's not beautiful enough for it to be considered a blessing._

_It looks like a curse, branded right where everyone can see._

_And that might have been enough reason for Fukase to show Oliver a part of himself that also feels like a curse._

_It's a secret that Fukase now shares with someone who's just like him._

_With someone who might understand.)_

* * *

The bathroom becomes their refuge. It's found behind the gym, and it's not used often because it's too far from any classes.

Oliver is always the first to go in and the last to leave.

For the first couple of days, they sit in silence. Oliver fidgeting with his hat and Fukase playing with his fingers. Every now and then someone will enter and Oliver will have the same reaction.

His eyes will look at the lock of their stall to make sure it's turned all the way around. His lips will set into a straight line, and he'll grab the sleeve of Fukases' shirt.

Oliver won't move a muscle. Not even when he hears the toilet flush or the sink run.

It's the only time Oliver will initiate any form of connection with Fukase.

Today, Olivers' elbows are scratched and scabbed over. His face has a few cuts from being pushed against the concrete floor of their lunchroom. Fukase was witness to it, and before going to their stall, he grabbed a few bandaids from their teachers desk.

He made sure he wasn't followed, looking down the hallways and even listening to any sounds that could mean a student was near.

There's soft mumbles of conversations happening through the walls as Fukase closes the door behind him. It comes from the fifth graders exiting the gym, and it doesn't sound too close, but Oliver reacts the same.

Grabbing Fukases' sleeve the moment Fukase gets near enough, and holding his breath until the noise leaves.

Fukase takes his chance and pulls the bandaids out of his back pocket. They're colored pink and covered in strawberries.

"Don't move," he whispers, as he places the first bandage on a small cut on Olivers' wrist.

Olivers' only response is a small nod, as he begins to breath again.

After a while, Fukase decides to cover up some of Olivers' bruises. He thinks they look pretty as the pink replaces the yellow-blue tints, but covering them up doesn't hide what's underneath and Oliver cringes whenever Fukase accidently pushes down on them.

"Why are you doing this?" Olivers' voice echoes as Fukase covers a cut on Olivers' cheek. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Was he supposed to have a reason?

What if his reason is selfish, and Oliver decides to leave.

What is Fukase supposed to say, then?

Before Fukase can think of an answer, the bathroom doors slam open causing Oliver to gasp and jump from his seated position. 

Whoever it is, quickly enters the stall beside them.

The air seems fragile, almost like glass, and Fukase has to grit his teeth to keep himself from making any noise. 

So many emotions appear on Olivers' face from the thought of getting caught.

Fear.

Dread.

And worry.

Oliver looks vulnerable and scared, and Fukase acts before Oliver can get any more worse. 

He moves quietly and quickly, wrapping his arms around Oliver in a tight hug. 

Fukase has never felt a bigger need to comfort; to protect.

And as Oliver stops breathing Fukase begins to worry Oliver will pass out in his arms. 

"It's going to be okay," Fukase whispers, feeling Oliver tense even more against him. 

Fukase can almost remember when his mother used to hold him like this. It makes Fukase want to do better, to be able to become someone Oliver can lean on and feel reassured. It's something Fukase also want in return.

After the boy leaves, Fukase continues to hold Oliver close. 

Olivers' hands shake as he starts gasping for air, his face red and paler than normal. There's some wet spots on Fukases' shirt from where Oliver cried, but Fukase doesn't care. 

"Show me, again." 

There's a hitch in Fukases' voice as he says, "What?"

Oliver hiccups, as he pulls away from Fukase.

"I need to see it again," he says, his voice quivering with effort "I need to know they're real." 

_(I need to know you're real)_

Fukase can only guess Oliver means his bruises.

This time, Fukase turns around to lift his shirt and shows Oliver the bruises on his back. 

There's welts that cover his shoulders blades, with smallers ones at the bottom. Fukase can't see them, but he can guess what they look like.

Red, swollen, and ugly.

"You're just like me."

Fukase turns around, and for a second he forgets about his problems at home.

He forgets about school, and his parents, and the bullies, and focuses on the now, and the here.

He focuses on Oliver, how he's covered up in pink bandaids, and smiling at him.

It shouldn't be normal to create a connection over abuse, but it's the only choice they have.

They can heal each other.

* * *

Fukase feels numb as he walks out of the bathroom. 

It feels like he's walking away from something that keeps him grounded.

He imagines walking through the halls with Oliver by his side. Laughing and pushing each other just like the other students do. No one pointing out Olivers' flaws and mocking him for it. 

It's selfish, but Fukase doesn't think he would be friends with Oliver if Oliver didn't get bullied. 

Because at the end of the day, Fukase will still return to a family that will hit and mistreat him. 

The fact that Oliver goes through the same pain keeps Fukase from leaving.

They match. 

_"You're just like me."_

Oliver said it himself. 

And as Fukase tries to convince himself that Oliver would feel the same, he fails to notice Arsloid watching him from the gym doors.


	3. Chapter Three

They learn to talk without saying anything.

Sign language is only taught for a few days in their homeroom, mostly basics, but Fukase and Oliver take a greater interest in the language.

It's supposed to be easier than writing a note, and faster to get a reply.

Oliver is the first to learn the alphabet, his fingers moving fluidly with each sign, but despite Fukases' best efforts, he lacks the same gracefulness.

"You have to curve your index finger to make the 'x'," Oliver says, grabbing Fukases' hand and fixing it.

Fukase is sure that Oliver had already told him how the 'x' was supposed to look like, but it looks too similar to 't'.

It's hard, and Fukase almost wants to go back to writing notes.

"How do you do the 'y', again?" Fukase asks.

Oliver shakes his head, smiling before closing his hand into a fist. He leaves the pinky and the thumb sticking.

"Oh."

Oliver sighs, before standing up and stretching. He starts to take Fukases' jacket off but doesn't get far.

"You can leave it on, just give it back to me when school's out."

Oliver only stares at him, probably to see if Fukase is being genuine, and shrugs. He puts the jacket back on again.

"What if someone sees us?"

Oliver seems serious, not meeting Fukases' eyes as he waits for an answer.

"I'll be careful, I'll give you a sign when I'm alone, or I'll find you."

The corners of Oliver's mouth twitch into a smile, "You need to get better at ASL if you want to give me a sign."

Fukase can feel his face begin to burn with some heat. "That's not what I meant."

His response is rewarded with a giggle.

* * *

When the bell for class rings, Fukase is already on his way.

A storm of butterflies swarm inside of his chest as he walks, but it's a short-lived feeling when Arsloid decides to walk besides him.

"Where's your coat 'Kase? You look cold."

Fukase wasn't cold, but the question threw him off.

Why was Arsloid talking to him?

They were friends, but the type of friends that only talked when it was only them in a room, or when a friendship was in the middle of mending.

A superficial relationship Fukase thinks.

"I'm not sure, it's probably in my locker," Fukase lies, forcing a neutral expression. "Did you do the homework Mr. Kaito assigned?"

Arsloid pulls a face, "No, long division is too complicated."

Fukase nods, biting his lip. 

"Mr. Kaito will probably give us some time to finish." 

Arsloid shrugs, like he's done talking about it and before walking into his assigned class, he says, "We should really hang out more. It's like you disappear everytime I look for you."

He leaves Fukase alone, but Fukase can't scratch away the feeling that there's more that Arsloid didn't say.

It sticks with him until all his classes are over.

* * *

Fukase finds Oliver before Oliver can find him.

He's sitting on a bench besides the bike racks using the coat as a blanket. If Fukase hadn't noticed Oliver's eyes were open it would almost appear that Oliver was sleeping.

There's no students around, so Fukase makes his way across the parking lot.

Oliver's eyes are distant and hazy almost like he's looking through a fogged mirror. It isn't until Fukase calls his name that Oliver reacts.

"Oh sorry." Oliver fumbles, folding the jacket in his lap with hands that lacked the same gracefulness they had this morning. "I must have dozed off." There's no color in Oliver's voice. Only a monotone whisper, the same one he uses when the teachers call on him.

Fukase feels like he's watching another version of Oliver.

There's more bruises on Oliver's arms, and a few raised lines of skin along his neck, but that's all.

He looks normal, so why is Oliver acting this way?

"I have to go."

Fukase doesn't have a chance to respond as Oliver gives up folding the jacket and instead passes it to him.

Fukase hates that Oliver has decided to treat him like this.

Weren't they improving?

Were they not talking enough?

"Wait!" Fukase says as Oliver walks past him.

Oliver doesn't stop, as if he hadn't heard Fukase say anything, and after a few more steps kicks into a sprint.

A rational side of Fukase's brain tells him to let Oliver go.

Fukase can find someone else.

He's eight, it shouldn't be a problem to forget someone at such a young age.

But because he is young, Fukase can't help but to want the things he can not have.

He runs after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on Fukase's personality? How about Oliver's?  
> (This chapter was not edited btw)


	4. Chapter Four

The wind cuts deeply across Fukase’s face as he runs past the school’s entrance.

He discards the jacket knowing the added weight will only slow him down because with every turn Oliver makes the farther away he gets. 

He’s at a disadvantage the longer he runs. The roads aren’t the ones he takes going home and all the houses he passes look too similar. If he loses Oliver now he won’t be able to go back to the school, much less back home. 

“Oliver, Stop!” He screams as Oliver makes yet another turn. 

He only gives Fukase a glance, surprised that he was still following perhaps?

They continue to run for fifteen minutes, their breathing louder and more broken with every step. 

“I just want to talk,” Fukase says, the words coming out in between gasps and coughs. “I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll stop looking for you, but stop, please.”

They’re empty promises. Fukase has no intention of fulfilling anything he’s saying, but Oliver falls for his words, and stops. 

Oliver puts his hands on his knees to breathe in between his coughing fit and Fukase does the same, keeping his eyes on Oliver in case he decides to run again. 

Both of them shiver violently as a strong breeze passes between them.

“If you wanted to talk why not wait until tomorrow like you usually do?” Oliver questions swallowing another gasp of air. “Isn’t that enough for you? You have other friends, Fukase.”

Fukase shakes his head.

Those friends don’t know about his scars. They wouldn’t be able to help him like Oliver could. 

_Does Oliver not see that?_

Oliver points at Fukase accusingly, a shred of hate appearing on his usually stoic face. “You won’t have any friends if they find out you’ve been hanging out with me.”

It’s true, Fukase knows it’s true because it has happened to the younger students who took pity on Oliver.

“Do you like keeping me a secret from them?” Oliver drops his hand, and glares. All traces of the kind and patient boy from that morning gone. 

“That’s not it at all,” Fukase stammers, words coming out uneven. “I just want to spend more time with you. I want to get to know you.”

It’s such an obvious lie, and Oliver catches on to it, immediately.

“I don’t believe you.”

Static rings inside of Fukase’s head and it only gets louder when Oliver turns his gaze away from him. 

There’s so much noise inside of Fukase regardless of the silence surrounding both of them and it numbs him from all the emotion he wants to feel. It crushes the explanations he has at the tip of his tongue and it forces Fukase to wait until Oliver looks at him again, because if he doesn’t Fukase might just break like glass. 

Oliver can only stare at the pavement for so long, before Fukase catches Oliver touching the pink bandaid on his wrist. 

“I will believe your lies, under one condition.” Oliver looks at him and Fukase feels himself mending back together again. Fukase’s mouth tastes like ash so he nods instead of replying. 

“Tell me what they’re doing to you.”

* * *

Oliver grabs Fukase’s hand and takes the lead. They walk through a trail of stone that leads to Olivers' house. The door is unlocked and quickly they pass the living room and enter a narrow hallway. Oliver's room is at the end of it.

It’s nothing special, but to Fukase it feels personal to see Oliver’s desk in the opposite corner of where his bed is. There’s no poster, no pictures, but there are a few books littered on his nightstand.

It’s almost suffocating how normal the setting is. Nothing like the cramped stalls Fukase is used to. 

Oliver sits down on his bed and Fukase follows through as well. 

Fukase doesn’t move as Oliver looks at him gingerly before signing. He goes slow so Fukase can decipher each curve of his fingers and their meaning. 

_‘Tell me’_

Fukase sucks in a breath. 

He doesn't have to do this. He doesn't have to say anything. 

It's too personal to go into detail. 

But the consequences of keeping silent weigh more and Fukase hates the way his body craves the relief of the stress he's causing himself. 

Slowly, Fukase places one hand on his stomach, and remembers how shocked Oliver had appeared when he first saw the bruises, and whispers, "Would you even believe me if I told you?" His voice is small, and he feels even smaller under Oliver's gaze.

Fukase moves his hand away from his stomach and instead touches where his neck and his shoulder meet, feeling the welts from through his shirt- watching as Oliver follows the movement of his hand. 

“My problems don't happen at school, my scars are from home. So you won't ever get to see how they're made." Fukase averts his eyes.

Clearing his throat he folds his hands together. "I'm not sure why he does it. And it doesn't happen often, but when it does," Fukase attempts to swallow the bile in his throat, his voice breaking as he finishes. "It hurts so much."

Oliver's hand wraps around one of his wrists and gently squeezes. It's surreal how much relief Fukase's body gets through one touch. 

Who is 'he'?" Oliver whispers.

This is what Fukase wanted. The comfort and attention of someone just like him.

He signs, his hands shaking inside the palm of Olivers' hand.

_‘Dad’_

Oliver comes forward and wraps his arms around Fukase’s neck. It’s what tips Fukase over, and it happens slowly. 

Fukase isn’t sure how much time he spends in Olivers’ arms, silently crying, but eventually he’s able to hug Oliver back. 

No one bothers them, even when Fukase hears the house door open, the person doesn’t come to check up on them. And when Oliver does back away, it’s only to encourage Fukase to lay down with him. The bed is soft and Oliver is warm. 

Fukase looks out of Oliver’s window and sees the clouds and imagines that if he were able to lay down on it, it would feel just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, and Comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
